


Night Watch

by redex_writes



Category: A Way Out (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, If You Squint - Freeform, Leo has no shame, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, PWP, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, Vincent Moretti is Gay and Repressed: The Musical, Voyeurism, actually i'm not sorry fuck you i am a comedic genius, also Leo is a whore and he owns it, i am so sorry for this title it made me giggle, i mean they masturbate in a shack, i think that qualifies as not canon compliant, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redex_writes/pseuds/redex_writes
Summary: Leo doesn’t answer right away. After a brief silence, he clears his throat.“I, uh. I kind of have a...a thing. For that.”“For what, monologues?”“God--no, you fucking dumbass. For, y’know, doing it in front of people. And I’m not about to make you watch, so…”Vincent chokes on his spit, effectively cutting Leo off.Leo and Vincent are able to take a brief reprieve, but Vincent finds that rest is hard to come by--for multiple reasons.
Relationships: Leo Caruso/Vincent Moretti
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened. I asked on Tumblr if people would be interested in reading a smut oneshot if I decided to write one, and the answer was yes, so here it is! It's been really hot where I am so my writing energy is nearly nonexistent, so I've been doing more short things and oneshots until I get my wits about me. I haven't written a full finished smut in quite a while, so I may be a little rusty, but I hope you enjoy!

The dense forest is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it’s a pain and a half to get through, branches snagging on clothes and feet stumbling in burrows. On the other, it should make it harder to track them--in theory, at least. Vincent is beginning to doubt how effective of a cover the heavy brush will be with every shouted curse and crashing footfall from Leo.

“I thought you were a stealthy guy?” Vincent snaps at him after the third time he goes tumbling to the ground with a frustrated yell. Leo glares up at him, though the effect is significantly less threatening than it would be if Leo weren’t flat on his back and tangled in branches.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m not trekking through the fucking thick ass forest as quietly as you’d prefer.” Leo carefully extracts himself from the mess of sticks and brambles, wincing as the sharp twigs and thorns scrape at his skin. Vincent just watches, unimpressed, as Leo gets to his feet, brushing off his shirt before turning to him with a scowl.

“You know, you could’ve at least tried to help.”

Vincent shrugs. “I could’ve. Or you could watch where you’re going and maybe not alert everyone within a five mile radius where we are.”

“Fucker,” Leo mutters, pushing past and stomping on without sparing him another glance. Vincent rolls his eyes to himself, but follows behind Leo without complaint.

Out of nowhere Leo stops short, and now it’s Vincent’s turn to nearly fall over as he slams into his back. He’s fully prepared to go off, to give Leo a piece of his mind, when he looks past his shoulder and sees why Leo stopped.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs when he sees the shack. It’s little more than a tool shed, but it’s bigger than the hut they’d set camp in the day before, and it’s surrounded by enough wilderness that it’s almost camouflaged. Leo shoots him an excited grin over his shoulder before pushing through the trees to get to it.

The shack isn’t the most spacious, but there’s enough room for both of them to lay with a few feet of space between them. It’s sturdy enough, it’s got a roof, and honestly, Vincent would sleep on a bed of glass at this point if it meant they could safely rest. They’ve been avoiding taking long breaks to keep from being out in the open, but this rickety little shack seems like a gift from the universe.

It’s already getting dark, so Vincent suggests that they just try to get some sleep. Leo has no objections, flopping down on the hard ground with a grunt. Vincent does a quick scout around the area to make sure they didn’t leave any obvious trail before joining him, laying on the other side of the shack. The ground is cold and getting colder as the sun sets, but Vincent hardly notices past his own exhaustion. As the last rays of the sun disappear and the shack is plunged into darkness, he feels himself relax for the first time in days.

He’s nearly asleep--blissfully close to drifting off into peaceful oblivion--when Leo decides to, as usual, ruin everything.

At first, it’s so quiet that Vincent doesn’t immediately register it as anything out of the ordinary; just some shuffling from across the shack, accompanied by a soft, drawn-out sigh. Then, he hears the drag of Leo’s boots across the dirt, followed by a quick huff of air and the muffled yet distinct sound of skin on skin, and he snaps awake with a jolt as he realizes what’s happening.

He lays frozen for a few moments, completely silent, as he tries to figure out what to do. Leo’s noises don’t stop, and it isn’t until he lets out a particularly gritty moan that Vincent is able to snap himself out of it. He gives a loud, deliberate cough, and the noises abruptly halt.

There’s a moment of silence. Then: “Vincent? You awake?”

Vincent grunts, rolling his eyes to himself. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh.”

Leo doesn’t say anything past that, and after a moment of silence, Vincent thinks he’s settled down for the night.

The moment is broken when Leo shuffles again, and the soft slapping sounds resume.

“Fucking--Leo, what the fuck?”

“What?” The noises pause again, but there are some soft rustling sounds that suggest that Leo’s still rubbing himself slowly. Vincent swallows hard, pointedly ignoring the lump that forms in his throat at that image.

“Go do that outside. I don’t want to hear that shit right now.”

“Why?” Leo challenges. “It’s not like you didn’t hear anything in those cells.”

He’s right. The only place with less privacy than they’ve had in the middle of nowhere was in prison, and he’d had a few sleepless nights hearing things that he’d rather not.

But this is different. In the cells, with guards patrolling and the open bars, they’d all had to be quick and discreet. Now, however, under the safety blanket of the wilderness with no one around but the two of them, Leo obviously feels more bold; Vincent’s definitely never heard him sound like this before.

He would remember if he had.

“That doesn’t mean I want to hear it now. Go outside and jizz on a tree or something.”

“But it’s fucking cold,” Leo grouches. The rustling noises aren’t stopping, and Vincent _really_ wishes that he would so he could think straight. “My dick will fall off.”

“Well, either suck it up or go to fucking sleep. We need to keep moving tomorrow, and I don’t want to waste valuable resting time to listen to you masturbate.”

Leo grunts, obviously annoyed. “Don’t listen, then!”

“It’s not like I can exactly help it!”

“Jesus, Vincent, I’m not going outside in balls-shrivelling cold so you can get your beauty sleep. It’s just one of those things, you know--if I don’t get it over with, I’m never gonna be able to fall asleep.”

There’s a tense silence. Vincent rubs a hand over his face before sighing in frustration.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

“Yessir,” Leo says sarcastically.

Vincent rolls over, resolutely glaring at the wall of the shack. After a few seconds of silence, he hears Leo shift, and the sounds start up again.

He stays stock still, as if refusing to move will somehow make him stop existing for the next few minutes. The thought crosses his mind that he could cover his ears; but for some reason, as he hears Leo’s breath hitch from something he must’ve particularly liked, it disappears as fast as it’d come.

He stays like that for as long as he can bear. He tries to track the time by his heartbeat, but infuriatingly, as the sounds of Leo getting himself off mere feet away continue, he finds that his heartbeat is getting a lot less steady.

After what feels like an eternity of the filthiest sounds he’s ever heard from Leo, Vincent snaps. “Jesus Christ Leo, how fucking long is this going to take?”

Leo stops again. “You know, last time a guy talked about how long I take to finish, he definitely wasn’t complaining.”

Vincent’s brain helpfully supplies him with the image of Leo with a man and nope, no way, that is definitely _not_ what he needs right now. “Good for you.”

“I’m just saying, _some_ people consider it a gift.”

“Yeah, well _some_ people aren’t trying to sleep five feet away from you so they don’t keel over on the run tomorrow.”

Leo groans, this time in frustration, and Vincent hears his head thud against the ground. “Hey, Vince? You really need to work on your sexy talk.”

Vincent’s face burns, and he’s suddenly extremely grateful that the shack is dark.

“I changed my mind. Go outside.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try to go faster.”

“Good.”

The noises resume. Vincent takes a breath, trying to calm himself down, and closes his eyes.

A few minutes pass before Leo speaks again.

“Uh--”

“ _What_ , Leo?”

There isn’t an immediate response. Against his better judgement, Vincent glances over--Leo is completely still beside him.

“Can you, uh…”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

Vincent grits his teeth. “Leo, if a guy is touching his junk and asks me to do _anything_ for him, the answer is automatically no.”

“It wasn’t anything gross!” Leo shuffles where he’s laying, and Vincent hears him give a shaky sigh.

“I just...can you talk? Or at least, I dunno, make some noise or something.”

Vincent blinks. That...was not what he was expecting.

“You...want me to talk?”

“It doesn’t need to be a conversation or anything,” Leo says hurriedly. “It just, uh. I dunno. It helps a bit to. Y’know. Hear someone’s voice.”

Vincent turns his head, but he can hardly see Leo in the darkness.

“And why is that?” He asks slowly.

Leo doesn’t answer right away. After a brief silence, he clears his throat.

“I, uh. I kind of have a...a thing. For that.”

“For what, monologues?”

“God--no, you fucking dumbass. For, y’know, doing it in front of people. And I’m not about to make you watch, so…”

Vincent chokes on his spit, effectively cutting Leo off.

“Fuck--Vince, are you okay?”

Vincent clears his throat, trying to recover. He’s not exactly sure what had gotten him--whether it’s the flustered undertone to Leo’s voice, the admission, the fact that he had even brought up the possibility of Vincent watching him--

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m great.” His voice comes out a little strained, but it’s fine, he’s fine.

“Good. Great.”

There’s a tense silence before Leo clears his throat.

“So, uh. What do you say?”

Vincent sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck it--he needs to sleep, they both do, and if this is the quickest way to get this hell of a night over with, then fuck it.

“Yeah, fine. Just...hurry the fuck up.”

He waits, but the other side of the shack is quiet. “Leo…?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh. I’m ready when you are.”

“Oh--oh. Okay. Good.”

Vincent takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and is struck with the realization that he has absolutely no clue what to talk about. What exactly does a guy discuss with another guy to help him jerk himself off in a totally efficient and businesslike manner?

“So...what exactly do you want me to talk about?”

Leo makes a frustrated noise beside him. “I don’t fucking know, Vincent. This isn’t exactly a normal scenario for me, either; the other guy usually just talks dirty or something. But seeing as you’re a massive prude with a stick up your ass the size of a tree--”

“The other guy?” Vincent cuts him off. He can’t help it, fuck, the image of Leo with some random man resurfaces in his mind, and a wave of heat rolls over him. In an attempt to maintain the last pathetic shreds of his heterosexuality, he decides to go the mocking route. “Never took you for that kind of fella, Leo.”

Leo grunts, and Vincent hears him start to move again. “Yeah, well. You take what you can get in that shithole of a jail.”

Vincent hums thoughtfully--now that he’s talking, trading barbs back and forth with Leo, it’s easy to fall into a casual flow like they usually do...except for the fact that Leo is touching his dick. That’s a bit of a major discrepancy.

“No, I don’t think that’s it. You weren’t in there for long enough by the time I came to just be _suddenly_ into ‘other guys’. I think you were long before you were put away. Same with this...thing of yours. I think this is something you’ve been doing for a long time, long before I met you.”

The slapping sounds are back, and when Leo talks again, his voice is just a little rougher. “Yeah? And how’d you-- _mm, fuck_ \--how’d you come to that con- conclusion, huh?”

“Well, for starters, it fits your profile.” Vincent smirks despite himself. “You’re so loud and obnoxious, need the attention to be on you all the time. Seems only fair that’d extend to this.”

“Fuck--fucker,” Leo pants out. He already sounds a lot less cocky than he had before, and Vincent finds himself wondering just how much this is really getting to him.

“I think you’ve done this before, multiple times. I think it turns you on more than anything, knowing that someone can hear you like this. You act all tough, but that’s just a front. This is what you’re _really_ like--needy and desperate for attention.” 

Vincent has no idea where all of this is suddenly coming from. He’s never really talked dirty before--not like this, at least--but as Leo starts making these punched-out, breathy little sounds, he finds that it’s getting easier to just let his mouth run.

If Leo’s reactions are any indication, Vincent would say he’s doing at least a half-decent job--either that, or he’s just _really_ getting off to the fact that Vincent is literally right there. Either way, he’s breathing harder with every word, and Vincent can practically _feel_ him moving, even though they’re a good four feet apart. The nervous energy that he exudes naturally is all being focused into this one task, and it’s having more of an effect on Vincent than he’d like to admit.

Nevertheless, he continues. “You really have no shame, do you Caruso? It’s not like I wouldn’t have been able to tell in the first place. You knew I would wake up, knew I would hear you getting yourself off. But that’s what you want, right? You want to show off, want people to see you, hear you, judge you. Not such a tough guy now, huh?”

Leo’s breaths are shaky, and his legs are shifting restlessly. “Fu-uck you, Vince-- _hah, shit_ \--Vincent.”

Oh _god_. Vincent hadn’t been expecting Leo to say his name, and he _definitely_ hadn’t expected him to say it so breathlessly, voice low and rough. Hearing his name in that voice does something to him, and to his dismay, he can feel his cock twitch and begin to harden. He swallows hard, determined to ignore it, to not open that door, and focuses back on Leo.

“I heard you sometimes, in the cells.” That’s not a lie--he had heard Leo, as well as a few of the other inmates, having some “private time” in the quiet moments of the night. This, however, is infinitely different. If he’d thought that _Leo_ was affected by their new situation, then Vincent had greatly underestimated the effect it would have on _him_. 

“This is different, though.” He voices his thoughts before he really has time to think them through. Beside him, Leo’s panting and squirming where he lays. “I’ve never seen you like this--never heard you so desperate. Back there, I could ignore it, let you do your thing in peace. But now...god, Leo, you’re being so loud. So desperate. Writhing around, moaning like a whore.”

That last comment throws him, but he doesn’t have time to be shocked at himself before Leo lets out an almost _pained_ moan. Vincent can see him practically jolt out of the corner of his eye, and he bites back a curse as his dick throbs in interest. He’s so tempted to turn, to look at Leo, to shuffle closer until he can feel the heat of his body against his own, feel his arm move as his hand fists over his cock as he pulls his own out and matches Leo’s rhythm.

As it is, Vincent just lays there, trying to ignore the straining of his dick against his pants. Leo sounds completely debauched by this point, puffs of air and bitten-off curses filling the silence of the small shack.

“Vincent,” he gasps, and any hope that Vincent had of ignoring his own arousal goes straight out the metaphorical window. “Vincent, c’mon, keep going. Please--”

“Fuck,” Vincent hisses, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. His hips twitch against his will, just a brief jerk upwards; thankfully, Leo doesn’t catch it, too wrapped up in his own pleasure to notice.

“Vincent, c’mon, please.”

Fuck it. Fuck it, and fuck him for being so weak, and fuck Leo for making those sounds that should be _illegal_ for how filthy they are. Vincent exhales in a rush of air as his hands fly to his pants, undoing them as fast as he can manage with his shaky hands. Leo notices, _of course he does_ , and his breath hitches in surprise.

“Fuck--are you--”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Vincent cuts him off, before yanking his pants open and freeing his aching cock. He hisses through his teeth at the sensation, already so fucking aroused from the sounds Leo’s still making beside him. He hurriedly spits into his palm and wraps his hand around his dick, a soft noise leaving him--it’s been way too long.

“Oh my god,” Leo whimpers--fucking _whimpers_ \--and Vincent shudders at the desperation in his voice. He hopes Leo doesn’t mind that he’s stopped talking, because the only thing that he can focus on right now is the tight heat of his hand on his cock, the pulse of blood rushing through his body, and the broken little noises that Leo is still making. He’s planted his feet now, and is thrusting up into his own hand--Vincent can see it out of the corner of his eye, can see Leo’s hips jerk up and his back arch briefly with every thrust. The image, no matter how slight, makes Vincent bite back a groan as his cock pulses in his hand, demanding his attention. 

The quiet shack is now filled with their sounds, heavy with the smell of sex and sweat. Vincent can’t help but notice the differences in the way they jerk themselves off; Leo’s tugging himself quick and rough, hips twitching up and breath coming fast through parted lips. Vincent’s technique is more slow, fisting his dick with firm, rhythmic strokes, twisting a little at the head in a move that sends jolts up his spine and makes his breath catch in his throat.

Leo’s foot suddenly kicks out, and Vincent turns his head without thinking. The sight he’s met with sends immediate red-hot pleasure stabbing through him, and his hand unconsciously tightens around his dick.

Leo is still going, his hand a blur over his cock--though, maybe that’s just the darkness obscuring Vincent’s vision. His right leg is flat, left leg still bent and planted on the ground, and his left arm is slung over his face as his hips roll up into his fist.

He makes a choked sort of noise, and suddenly Vincent needs to see him, _needs_ to see the way his face looks overcome with pleasure, _needs_ to watch him tug at his cock in the way that’s pulling all of these noises out of him. Without fully thinking it through, he sits up, still holding his dick, and shuffles over to Leo on his knees, eyes trained on his shape in the dark. 

Being even just a little closer does wonders. The glow of the moon shining through the cracks in the wood casts scattered flecks of light over Leo’s body, and though his eyes are covered, Vincent can still see his mouth, see that his lips are plump and wet from biting. His tongue flicks out to lick his own lips, and his grip tightens as he slowly starts pumping himself again, a soft sound leaving him as he feels his dick throb in his hand.

Leo’s arm flies away from his face, eyes wide open and staring at Vincent in surprise. They stay like that for a moment--Leo, frozen still with shock; Vincent, slowly fisting the length of his cock, not breaking eye contact. Leo’s lips are parted, and Vincent can hear his shuddering breaths from where he’s kneeling.

His eyes flick down to Leo’s groin, and he swallows thickly as arousal shoots down his spine; this close, he can see what he couldn’t before--can see the outline of Leo’s erection, his fingers curled at the base, the faint shine of precum on the head. Vincent’s own dick twitches, and the sharp inhale from below him tells him that Leo noticed.

His eyes trail back up Leo’s body to his face, and with a jolt he sees that Leo is already looking at him. As he watches, Leo swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the motion, and he starts moving his hand again. Vincent shudders; their new positions mean that Leo’s arm is bumping against his leg with every upwards stroke, and it’s a whole other level than just hearing him from across the shack.

“Leo,” he mutters, and his voice rumbles deep in his chest. He didn’t really have anything else to say, but Leo gives a shaky moan and starts jerking himself faster, and Vincent’s throat tightens too much to keep talking anyways. He sits back on his heels, gripping his knee with his free hand as he speeds up, though he’s still not fast enough to match Leo’s near-frenetic strokes. 

If Vincent thought Leo had been loud before, it’s _nothing_ compared to what he’s like now. He’d shut his eyes at some point and his brow is knitted, face screwed up in pleasure. He’s turning his head from side to side, chewing on his bottom lip as an endless stream of soft moans and sighs fill the air around them. Vincent groans, low and gritty, and Leo’s eyes shoot open again. His eyes are dark with arousal, and he lets go of his lip, mouth falling open with a strained moan.

Vincent acts without thinking. Leaning forward, he brings his free hand up and grasps Leo’s chin almost gently, thumbing at his lip and tugging it down slightly. At the same moment, he locks eyes with Leo, making sure he sees the heat in his gaze.

That’s the breaking point for Leo. His eyes widen, and Vincent feels his arm shaking as he jerks, hips thrusting up a few times. Then, with the most obscene noise Vincent’s ever heard in his life, Leo’s back arches up off the ground, and Vincent watches as cum shoots up over his knuckles, soaking the front of his own shirt in a few strong pulses. 

As soon as it’s over, Leo slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. He rolls his head to the side and looks up at Vincent, eyes bleary and unfocused, his lower lip swollen and shiny with spit. Vincent clamps his mouth shut to stifle a groan, and he falls forward, planting his hand on the ground beside Leo’s head as his hand speeds up to a blur. He grits his teeth, brow furrowing, but he doesn’t look away from Leo’s face, not even as the pleasure begins to build up hot and tight in his gut. Leo just stares back, looking completely ruined, with his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and face flushed in patches. 

Vincent grunts, and his hips jerk into his hand as the pleasure builds, coiling up tighter and tighter before it suddenly snaps. His eyes finally roll back in his head, and he gives a stuttering groan as cum spurts from his dick and lands on Leo’s chest, adding to the mess on his already ruined shirt. He shivers as the last waves of his orgasm wash over him before collapsing onto his back beside Leo.

The shack falls quiet as both of their breaths even out, and after a few minutes, the only sounds are the quiet chirping of crickets outside. As the post-orgasm bliss fades and the fog starts to clear from Vincent’s mind, it’s replaced by a cold, uneasy feeling deep in his chest. What the fuck was that?

“Fucking hell, Vince,” Leo mutters, bringing Vincent back to the present. His voice is low and husky, and when Vincent looks over, he sees that there’s a dopey, blissed-out grin on his face. His eyes are, thankfully, closed, and he doesn’t open them as Vincent sits up, grimacing as he cracks his stiff neck. He shuffles away, laying back down on his side of the shack and immediately rolling over to face the wall. Leo yawns loudly, sounding half-asleep already when he speaks again.

“Didn’t know you had it in you. Maybe you’re not such a buzzkill after all.”

 _Shut up_ , Vincent thinks, glaring at the wall. _Shut up and stop talking to me in that fucking voice, stop making it so hard to regret what I just did._

Leo doesn’t seem to notice his silence, or maybe he just doesn’t care. He just yawns again, and mumbles a sleepy, “G’night, Vince,” before his breathing evens out and he’s out cold.

Vincent’s sleep doesn’t come easy, even with the remnants of his orgasm making his limbs and eyes heavy. When he finally does drift off, he only catches a few hours before jolting back awake again to Leo shaking his shoulder roughly.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” He sits back when Vincent opens his eyes and grunts, pushing himself to sit up despite the protests of his aching joints.

“Time to go already?” Vincent presses his fist to his mouth to stifle a yawn. Leo nods and gets to his feet, pulling him up after him. 

“I checked the area again and covered our tracks best as I could, so we should be alright. I’ll be outside when you’re ready to head out.”

Vincent nods, but he’s only half listening, because he’s too busy staring at Leo’s shirt. It had been dirty before, but now it’s got a large, painfully obvious stain on it from a few hours ago that Leo either hasn’t noticed or just doesn’t give a shit about. 

“Will do. Be out in a sec.”

Leo nods again, ducking out of the shack and out of Vincent’s line of sight.

As soon as he’s gone, Vincent deflates, scrubbing his hands over his face and groaning in frustration.

“Fuck.”

Fuck indeed.


	2. Leo's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night Watch from Leo's POV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, hear me out: someone commented on the first chapter--which was going to be the only chapter--suggesting a Leo POV, and I actually really liked the idea. It was much easier to write since I already had the events written out, but now with Leo's point of view instead of Vincent's! Enjoy~

Even though all he really did was accidentally spot it, Leo still feels like he deserves credit for finding the shack.

That’s why, when Vincent announces that he’s going to do a quick sweep of the area before bedding down, Leo just gives him a half-hearted thumbs up before flopping down inside, relief instantly flooding his body at the reprieve. They’ve been walking for what feels like an eternity, dodging cops and stumbling through thick brush, getting poked and scraped up and bruised; he’s pretty sure his feet are more blister than foot at this point. It feels incredible to be able to lie down, to rest for more than an hour, to actually get a fucking break for the first time in days.

Honestly, the ground isn’t that much worse than the prison beds; and there’s a roof over their head now, which makes up for the fact that the floor of the shack is more dirt than actual wood. Leo stretches his arms above his head, groaning in appreciation as his joints pop, before going limp against the ground and closing his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears Vincent return. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” Vincent replies, and Leo hears him grunt as he settles on the hard ground. “We’re good, for a few hours at least. Enough time to get some shut-eye before moving on.”

Leo groans, throwing his arm over his face. “Vincent, I’m begging you, can we not talk about walking for like, five minutes?”

Vincent huffs out a laugh, and Leo turns his head to look at him. He’s already made himself comfortable, arms folded under his head and eyes closed. 

“Yeah, alright. I feel like I’m about to pass out, anyways.”

Leo considers suggesting that they should take shifts, keep watch in case something goes wrong, but honestly, as the sun fades out behind the trees and his eyelids get heavy, he can’t bring himself to care. He knows that they’re safe in this moment, and all he wants right now is some sleep.

Unfortunately, that turns out to be easier said than done.

As soon as his eyes shut with the intention of drifting off, Leo realizes that he’s got a bit of a problem. He doesn’t know if it’s the relief of having a break, or the remnants of the adrenaline high they’ve been on nonstop for days, or just the fact that it’s been too long, but he’s suddenly very aware of the boner pressing against the fabric of his boxers. He frowns, eyes closed, and tries to will it away--now is really not a good time. In fact, now is probably one of the worst possible times for this, and he tries in vain to convey that to his traitorous body with a mental cold shower. He thinks about sad puppies, tall skyscrapers, wrinkly old ladies, the pieces of shit guards at the prison. The way they sneer at the prisoners from down their noses, their superiority complex that made Leo’s life a living hell. They always act like they’re top shit, pushing around the prisoners, humiliating them. Leo remembers having to strip naked in front of the group of the twenty other guys that’d come in with him, the red-hot embarrassment at standing out in the open with his dick hanging out, doing everything he could to stop himself from getting hard in front of everyone--

Leo quickly cuts off that train of thought before it can get any further; that is absolutely not helping.

He’s never really felt the need to keep his exhibitionism kink a secret--that kind of defeats the whole point--but it’s not like he goes around proudly announcing it, _especially_ in prison. He learned real quick that anything like that, anything sexual in nature really, could be seen as a weakness, and surviving in a place like that means that any weaknesses need to be immediately eradicated.

However, that doesn’t mean that he never had his moments to indulge. The guards patrolled regularly at night, but there were periods in between the rounds that were just long enough for a quick jerk off. Leo definitely wasn’t the only one--most of the other guys had already grown accustomed to this sort of schedule. Once the most recent guard was out of earshot, that was the time for anyone who needed it to get started. No one ever talked about it--not to Leo’s knowledge, at least--but it wasn’t as though nobody could hear exactly what was going on if they were close enough.

Leo, however, always went a step further. He’d wait until he could hear the footsteps of the next guard on patrol down the walkway, staving off his orgasm until he was shaking in his cot. The guard would walk past, glancing into the cell as he went, completely missing the way that Leo would be biting his lips raw, a hand firmly clenched around his dick with his thumb teasing the head under the blanket. He’d wait a few seconds after the guard moved on--until the sounds of his footsteps were a safe distance away--to finish himself off, coming hard enough to see stars behind his eyes as he drenched the sheets.

Leo’s snapped back to reality by the sound of a soft sigh from Vincent, and realizes that he’s shaking, his dick hard enough to strain against his zipper. He bites his lip and holds back a groan, his hand dropping down to press lightly against the obvious bulge. His eyes roll back in his head as he swallows down another sound, hips twitching against his will; there’s no way he’s going to be able to sleep with this.

A thrill runs through Leo’s body as he realizes what he needs to do, and he glances quickly over to where Vincent is laying less than five feet away. It’s hard to tell in the darkness whether or not he’s asleep, but with the way that Leo’s throbbing in his boxers, he honestly doesn’t care enough to get up and check. He does feel a little guilty--this isn’t just some guy in a cell next to him. This is Vincent, who he broke out of prison with, who’s had his back from the start--who is married and almost definitely straight. However, Leo knows that if he doesn’t deal with this little problem now so he can sleep, he’ll be more of a liability on the road tomorrow. Satisfied with his reasoning, he deftly pops the button on his pants and unzips them as quietly as he can.

Keeping his ears sharp for any sounds from Vincent, Leo slips his hand into his boxers with a long, slightly shaky sigh. He shifts around a little, trying to get the best position, ending up with his knees bent and feet planted firmly on the ground. His breath catches as he carefully pulls his dick out--his pants open, boxers tucked snugly under his balls--and starts to slowly pump.

His eyes roll back in his head as he speeds up and sets a steady rhythm--it’s been way too long, he realizes, and his dick throbs in agreement. He bites his lip to keep as quiet as possible, but his thumb catches under the head and he can’t help the low groan that escapes him at the spark of pleasure.

A loud cough from the other side of the shack nearly sends Leo jumping out of his skin. He stops, hand still on his dick, and listens for a second. After a moment of silence, he swallows, deciding to test the waters.

“Vincent? You awake?”

Vincent grunts from his side of the shack. “Obviously.”

Leo’s pulse spikes, and his dick twitches in his hand. Vincent can hear him; could probably see him a little if he was looking his way. He swallows hard to keep down any embarrassing sounds.

“Oh.”

There’s no response from Vincent, and Leo’s faced with a brief moral crisis. On one hand, he could let it go and try his best to get some shut-eye despite a raging case of blue-balls. But, on the other hand…

Making up his mind, Leo takes a deep breath and starts moving again; cautiously at first, then speeding back up to where he was before.

There’s an incredulous sputtering from where Vincent’s laying.

“Fucking--Leo, what the fuck?”

“What?” Despite how much he wants to keep going, Leo decides to at least give Vincent the courtesy to slow down enough to hear him properly, though he does keep slowly palming himself, lightly tugging at his balls with a shiver.

Vincent doesn’t sound disgusted--just highly annoyed, and he usually sounds highly annoyed anyways. “Go do that outside. I don’t want to hear that shit right now.”

“Why? It’s not like you didn’t hear anything in those cells.” Leo knows for a fact that he’d jerked off at least once while Vincent was in the cell beside him--though, thinking about it now, he never heard Vincent do the same. Absently, he wonders if he never did it at all, or if he’s just extremely quiet. It would fit his personality, and Leo shudders slightly at the thought of Vincent in his cot, fucking his fist with a hand over his mouth to muffle any noises that might accidentally slip out.

“That doesn’t mean I want to hear it now,” the real Vincent gripes. “Go outside and jizz on a tree or something.”

Leo makes a face. “But it’s fucking cold. My dick will fall off.” Despite his mounting irritation, his hand doesn’t stop moving slowly over his dick.

“Well, either suck it up or go to fucking sleep.” _Easier said than done_ , Leo thinks bitterly.

“We need to keep moving tomorrow, and I don’t want to waste valuable resting time to listen to you masturbate,” Vincent continues, and Leo grunts in frustration.

“Don’t listen, then!”

“It’s not like I can exactly help it!” Vincent snaps. Leo rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Vincent, I’m not going out in balls-shrivelling cold so you can get your beauty sleep.” That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but Leo definitely would prefer to finish up in the shack rather than standing with his dick out in the open air as the night grows cooler. “It’s just one of those things, you know--if I don’t get it over with, I’m never gonna be able to fall asleep.”

Vincent’s quiet for a long moment, but then he sighs in resignation.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

“Yessir,” Leo says with a smirk.

With that out of the way, he can focus his attention back on his dick. It had flagged a little during their conversation, but a few strokes brings it back to full hardness, and soon he’s back in the rhythm that he was before. To his credit, he does try to keep quiet; however, between the relief of essentially having permission to jack off and the fact that he now _knows_ that Vincent can hear him, Leo is having a bit of a more difficult time stifling his noises than before. He runs his thumb firmly under the head, and his breath hitches as sparks of pleasure shoot through him.

He knows that he’s probably taking too long, but it’s not like it’s something that he can really help. It feels fucking incredible, but it’s not enough to get him off quickly; he’s got pretty good stamina for a guy his age. That’s usually a good thing, but not when he’s on a time restraint, and not when Vincent is likely getting more and more fed up as the minutes drag on.

His suspicions are confirmed when Vincent snaps at him a few minutes later. “Jesus Christ Leo, how fucking long is this going to take?”

Leo pauses for a moment to glare over at Vincent, even though he probably isn’t looking anyways. “You know, last time a guy talked about how long I take to finish, he definitely wasn’t complaining.”

“Good for you.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, grinning to himself at the irritation in Vincent’s voice, “ _some_ people consider it a gift.”

“Yeah, well _some_ people aren’t trying to sleep five feet away from you so they don’t keel over on the run tomorrow.”

Leo groans in frustration, letting his head fall back against the ground. “Hey, Vince? You really need to work on your sexy talk.”

He hears Vincent inhale sharply, and when he speaks, he sounds like he’s seething. “I changed my mind. Go outside.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try to go faster.” The last thing Leo wants to do right now is get up and go outside.

“Good.”

Leo swallows and closes his eyes, folding his arm under his head again and trying to focus. His grip tightens around his dick once more, and he starts off fast, hoping that he’ll be able to finish this soon. It’s one thing to have Vincent right there, but now he seems actually angry with Leo, and it feels a bit like a punch to the gut. He furrows his brow and speeds up, trying to push the feeling to the back of his mind.

Of course, it’s never that easy. After a few minutes of trying to coax scenarios to his head, he’s still hardly closer than he was before. Nothing is enough. Even his go-to fantasies aren’t working the way they should; no matter what he tries to imagine, his mind keeps drifting back to Vincent laying still and silent beside him.

There is one thing that might help, but he almost doesn’t want to risk it. However, he’s already come this far, and he’s starting to just want to get this over with, so he just grits his teeth and decides to bite the bullet.

“Uh--”

“ _What_ , Leo?” Vincent snaps, and Leo winces at the harshness of his voice. He’s not going to stop now, though, so he swallows before continuing.

“Can you, uh…”

Vincent cuts him off with a tone that leaves no room for debate. “Absolutely not.” 

Leo frowns in Vincent’s direction. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“Leo,” Vincent says in a forced calm tone, “if a guy is touching his junk and asks me to do _anything_ , the answer is automatically no.”

“It wasn’t anything gross!” Leo protests. He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly so nervous--it’s not like he’s usually self-conscious at all. For some reason, though, the thought that Vincent might end up being disgusted with him makes his stomach knot unpleasantly. He exhales slowly; he’s come this far. He isn’t going to pussy out now.

“I just...can you talk? Or at least, I dunno, make some noise or something.”

The silence from the other side of the shack is thick with tension. Leo waits nervously for Vincent to say something.

“You...want me to talk?” He doesn’t sound disgusted, or even judgemental--he actually sounds genuinely curious, if not a little hesitant. Leo rushes to explain himself.

“It doesn’t need to be a conversation or anything. It just, uh. I dunno. It helps a bit to. Y’know. Hear someone’s voice.”

Leo immediately winces at how lame he sounds. He doesn’t know why this is getting to him so much, and it’s driving him insane, making him sound like an idiot.

“And why is that?” Vincent’s voice is definitely more dubious now.

Leo isn’t going to fuck this up. He’s just going to be blunt, outright, and not make a fool of himself. He clears his throat.

“I, uh. I kind of have a...a thing. For that.”

Or not.

“For what, monologues?” Vincent sounds a little amused, though his voice is still coloured with uncertainty. Leo grits his teeth in frustration.

“God--no, you fucking dumbass.” Christ, this is ridiculous; Leo’s starting to think that he maybe should’ve gone outside after all. “For, y’know, doing it in front of people. And I’m not about to make you watch, so…”

Vincent suddenly makes a noise that sounds like he’s inhaled a clump of grass. Leo whips his head around to look, but all he sees is Vincent’s vague silhouette against the wall as he coughs.

“Fuck--Vince, are you okay?”

Vincent’s choking subsides, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I’m great.”

His voice is gravelly from his sudden coughing fit, and Leo suddenly remembers that his dick is, in fact, still in his hand as the sound of it sends a pulse straight to his groin. 

“Good. Great.”

He waits for Vincent to say something, but there’s no noise from his side. After a long moment, Leo clears his throat.

“So, uh. What do you say?”

There’s a tense silence, but then Vincent sighs. “Yeah, fine. Just...hurry the fuck up.”

Leo nods, before remembering that Vincent can’t see him. He waits for him to say something, staring at the ceiling with his heart thumping in his ears.

“Leo…?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh. I’m ready when you are.”

“Oh--oh. Okay. Good.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything past that. Leo feels himself getting annoyed, his thumb absently running over a vein on the side of his dick.

“So...what exactly do you want me to talk about?”

Leo feels like he could scream. “I don’t fucking know, Vincent. This isn’t exactly a normal scenario for me, either; the other guy usually just talks dirty or something. But seeing as you’re a massive prude with a stick up your ass the size of a tree--”

Vincent cuts him off. “The other guy?”

Leo blinks. He definitely mentioned it earlier--has Vincent forgotten already?

He continues before Leo can comment. “Never took you for that kind of fella, Leo.”

_Oh_. This is it--he’s taking on a role of familiarity, falling into their usual tone of casual banter. Leo can tell--his voice is lighter, and he sounds a bit more confident. He makes a noise that he hopes is low enough to sound a bit less embarrassing than it is, and _finally_ starts to stroke his dick again.

“Yeah, well. You take what you can get in that shithole of a jail.”

Vincent hums in a way that tells Leo that he sees right through his lie, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. 

“No, I don’t think that’s it. You weren’t in there for long enough by the time I came to just be _suddenly_ into ‘other guys’. I think you were long before you were put away. Same with this...thing of yours. I think this is something you’ve been doing for a long time, long before I met you.”

_Christ_. Leo has no idea where this new Vincent popped out of--his voice is lower, more confident, with the usual teasing edge that sounds _so much different_ now--but he is not complaining. He bites his lip once before releasing it to talk again.

“Yeah? And how’d you-- _mm, fuck_ \--” he presses his thumb to the slit of his dick just hard enough to make his hips twitch, “--how’d you come to that con- conclusion, huh?”

“Well, for starters, it fits your profile. You’re so loud and obnoxious, need the attention to be on you all the time. Seems only fair that’d extend to this.”

Vincent sounds so damn cocky, and it’s doing things to Leo. He’s panting now, and the slick sounds of his hand on his dick is just adding to the heat of the moment.

“Fuck--Fucker.” He’s stuttering, but he honestly doesn’t give a shit, as long as Vincent _just keeps talking_.

“I think you’ve done this before, multiple times. I think it turns you on more than anything, knowing that someone can hear you like this. You act all tough, but that’s just a front. This is what you’re _really_ like--needy and desperate for attention.” 

Leo squirms where he’s laying, his mouth open as his breaths escape him in short little huffs. Part of him is in awe of the things that are coming out of Vincent’s mouth; he’s never heard him talk like this, never even considered the possibility that he could. Most of him, though, is so drunk with pleasure that he can’t think of much more than _fuck yes please fuck Vincent keep talking keep going keep telling me what you really think about me feels so good fuck--_

“You really have no shame, do you Caruso?” Vincent continues, his voice casual, as if Leo’s not going insane with arousal mere feet away from him. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have been able to tell in the first place. You knew I would wake up, knew I would hear you getting yourself off. But that’s what you want, right? You want to show off, want people to see you, hear you, judge you. Not such a tough guy now, huh?”

Vincent’s nailing it right on the head; has Leo completely pegged. Leo tries to steady his breathing out enough to talk, but his voice ends up being as shaky as the rest of him. “Fu-uck you, Vince-- _hah, shit_ \--Vincent.”

Vincent’s quiet for a moment, and Leo has to bite his tongue to keep from begging.

“I heard you sometimes, in the cells.” A short pause, as if Vincent’s collecting his thoughts. 

“This is different, though. I’ve never seen you like this--never heard you so desperate. Back there, I could ignore it, let you do your thing in peace. But now...god, Leo, you’re being so loud. So desperate. Writhing around, moaning like a _whore_.”

Oh god, oh fuck, oh _god oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_. Leo has no idea how Vincent’s now managed to hit _two_ of his biggest kinks in one night, but he really doesn’t care, a long, strained moan escaping him as his dick twitches and his whole body jerks with a sudden rush of arousal. He just needs a little more--god, he just needs Vincent to keep talking, needs to hear that fucking _filthy_ voice of his picking him apart piece by piece.

Infuriatingly, Vincent’s chosen this moment to suddenly go quiet. Leo swears under his breath, boots dragging against the ground as he tries to collect himself.

“Vincent--Vincent, c’mon, keep going. Please--”

Vincent mutters something, but Leo’s in too deep to care. He hates begging, but goddamn it, he’ll beg until the fucking sun comes up for Vincent to _just keep talking_. 

“Vincent, c’mon, please.”

A flurry of movement catches Leo’s attention, and he manages to drag his focus away from his dick long enough to look over. When he registers what he’s seeing, he stops short, breath catching in his throat, because it looks like Vincent’s fighting to get his belt open, and Leo feels dizzy with sudden realization.

“Fuck--are you--”

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Leo can’t see perfectly in the dark, but he can tell when Vincent pulls his dick out, can _hear_ the sharp inhale, the spitting into his palm, the quiet groan when he grips himself, and he has to squeeze the base of his dick to keep from coming right there; because suddenly, he doesn’t want this to be over, wants to listen to Vincent get himself off _right fucking beside him_ , wants to hear him unravel, wants to hear him _come_ \--

“Oh my god,” he whimpers, heat rushing through him. He starts moving again, thrusting up into the tight ring of his fingers, listening intently for every sound Vincent makes. Leo was right about him being quiet; his noises are soft and restrained, bitten off and stifled, but every one of them feels like a punch to Leo’s gut. He groans and slings his arm over his eyes, hips jerking into his hand.

One particularly hard thrust sends Leo’s foot sliding through the dirt, but he hardly even notices. The change of position catches him off guard and causes his hand to rub firmly over the tip, and he can’t help the strangled sound that leaves his throat as if punched from him. 

He’s lost in his own little world of pleasure when the air seems to shift, and before he can wonder what’s going on, Leo hears a quiet groan from much, much closer than before. He yanks his arm away from his eyes and is met with the sight of Vincent kneeling beside him, fisting his own cock slowly. His eyes are fixed on Leo’s, and in the small patches of moonlight shining through the boards of the shack, Leo can see the intensity of his gaze; the way his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead; the way his lips are parted as he pants quietly.

Leo watches as Vincent’s eyes flick down to where he’s still got his cock in a tight grip, and he bites his lip to hold back a moan. He’s not able to get a great look at Vincent’s dick from this angle, but he sees it twitch out of the corner of his eye, and can’t stifle his sharp gasp from the sight.

He watches as Vincent’s eyes drag back up his body, and he feels his gaze as if it were Vincent’s hands instead. When their eyes meet, Leo swallows hard, and slowly starts to pump himself once more. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and he vaguely feels his arm bumping against Vincent’s leg, and it’s fucking _heaven_. He hears Vincent say his name softly and he moans, speeding up the pace until he’s jerking himself off with abandon, toes curling and lip lodged firmly between his teeth. His head is turning from side to side, and he’s got no hope of stopping the noises now.

Apparently, neither does Vincent, because he gives a low, rough moan from above him that sounds more like a growl. Leo’s eyes shoot open, and the downright hungry look on Vincent’s face combined with the sight of him fucking his fist is enough to make him moan. 

And suddenly, without warning, Vincent is reaching for him, grabbing his chin with an almost hesitant touch before gripping it just firmly enough to hold it and make Leo look him in the eyes. His thumb catches on Leo’s lip and he tugs it down slightly, and that’s it, Leo’s gone. His eyes widen almost comically before rolling back in his head, and he feels himself starting to tremble as his hips jerk up into his hand. Then, his back is arching off of the ground, and his mouth is falling open with a strained, choked sort of moan as the dam breaks and he feels cum shooting up onto his chest, soaking warm and wet into his shirt.

As the last pulse of cum dribbles pathetically over his knuckles, Leo goes boneless, collapsing against the ground. He feels like he’s just run a marathon, but he rolls his head to the side to watch Vincent.

He’s not disappointed by what he sees. Vincent looks _wrecked_ , less composed than Leo’s ever seen him. He pitches forward and lands with his hand beside Leo’s head, the hand on his dick speeding up impossibly fast; he’s close. He doesn’t break eye contact, though, and Leo can’t help but shiver at the heat in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze.

Vincent breaks their staring first, his eyes rolling back with a low, stuttering groan. His hips jerk forward, and Leo moans quietly when he feels Vincent’s cum splatter onto his front, seeping through the fabric with the mess he’d already made.

Vincent falls down beside him, and Leo allows himself a moment to bask in his afterglow. He closes his eyes and grins, shaking his head slightly.

“Fucking hell, Vince,” he mutters. He feels Vincent get up, hears him move back to his place on the other side of the shack, and shivers slightly as the heat from Vincent’s body disappears, the cooling sweat and cum leaving him chilled in the night air. He yawns, stretching his body out before curling up on his side.

“Didn’t know you had it in you. Maybe you’re not such a buzzkill after all.”

There’s no response from Vincent, but Leo’s already half asleep. He yawns again, feeling himself being pulled down into sleep.

“G’night, Vince.”

Leo wakes up before Vincent the next morning, and the first thing he notices is the vaguely unpleasant crustiness of his shirt. He grimaces, stretching it out at the bottom and looking down, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise at the size of the stains. 

“Damn,” he murmurs, a grin spreading across his face, before pushing himself up and stumbling outside. 

It doesn’t take long to check out the perimeter, looking for anything they might’ve missed. On his way back to the shack, he nearly falls face-first into a small, steadily flowing stream--just another great find by Leo Caruso, he thinks to himself with a smirk. He kneels down to splash some water on his face and gulp down a few handfuls, and by the time he’s finished, he feels much more refreshed and ready to go.

As he turns to walk away, he pauses, a hand drifting up to his shirt. Between the general dirt and grime and the remnants of the previous night, it’s admittedly pretty gross, and the stream is flowing quickly enough that he could probably scrub it down on some rocks. 

He trails his fingers down his chest, and a flash from the night before pops into his head--Vincent, eyes shut, mouth hanging open as he hovered above him, soaking Leo’s chest--

Leo grins to himself as a slight flush rises in his cheeks.

Maybe later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the new POV! This work is now done for real, but feel free to give me ideas for things you might want to see, either in the comments or on my Tumblr ( https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redex-writes ). I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope it ended up good! Remember to take care of yourself today, and I'll see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to see the stuff I post about writing (and general bullshittery) and see when I post something new on here, check out my tumblr ( https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redex-writes )! I hope you're having a good day, and remember to take some time for yourself if you need it!


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